A Storm Is Coming
by Shadow Padawan
Summary: It was their last summer before the rest of their lives, their first summer after Hogwarts. Ficlet.


The air was burning, practically sizzling, devouring cooling spells at an impressive rate. An abnormally hot summer, almost cloudless. Their last summer before the rest of their lives, their first summer after Hogwarts.

A war was coming for them. Antonin could feel it in the air, tinging like an approaching thunderstorm.

He could hear the laughter of their friends far behind them as he and Bellatrix make their way through the bushes and tall grasses to the bank of the river, leaving the rowdy picnic behind. Edward Parkinson had brought out the firewisky, no older adults were in sight or in mind – so with any luck they would not be missed.

Bella smiled invitingly at him. Her long dark hair contrasted starkly against her white summer dress. She hardly ever wore light colors – blacks and dark greens, dark silvers and crimson reads were more her style. But he liked seeing her in white – I will have to propose soon, he thought offhandedly. It would be the height of impropriety not to, even if he was somewhat anxious about what Bella's parents might think of his suit. She was the eldest Black daughter – the most desirable bride in all of England. He could offer her much, but not nearly as much as she deserved.

Bellatrix toed out of her shoes and tried the water with one foot as Antonin came to stand beside her. With this heat, he was only wearing his shirt and trousers and it would be easy enough to undress and go for a quick dip.

Slowly, Bella began to wade into the water. The hem of her dress floated for a few moments before becoming drenched and sinking, sticking to her legs. "What are you doing?"

"Going for a swim, of course." She laughed, the sound evaporating like a heat-wrought delusion.

"In your clothes?" Antonin asked, amused.

"Well I don't have my swimming things with me, do I?"

So she was going to play modest with him. "You'll ruin that dress."

"Are you an expert on fabrics now?"

Antonin shrugged, admitting defeat. He certainly wasn't. Instead, he took out his wand and gave it several flicks, sending ripples across the water, which formed into shapes and designs around Bellatrix. If someone was to paint a picture of her now, it would be as though she were a nymph.

A man-eating nymph, Antonin thought with a smirk. Bella could be vicious when she wanted to be. That was one of the things he loved about her.

"What?" she asked, eyebrows raised. She was now waist-deep in the water.

"What?" Antonin gave her his most innocent look.

"I know that expression, Dolohov." She raised a miniature tidal wave with her wand and sent it in his direction. Antonin stepped back quickly and it crashed at his feet, splashing his shoes and the bottom of his trousers. "Come in with me." She gave him a sly look, which Antonin would never have been able to resist.

He waded out into the water alongside her. She met him with a spray of water from her wand which nearly knocked him backwards. Antonin laughed and replied in kind. Bella, always one for mischief, waded deeper into the stream until she had to stand on her tiptoes to touch the bottom. They played like children in the clear, blue water. Antonin wondered if it was wise being out so deep with their wands, but then he figured they would dry out in a second in this weather as soon as they came back to shore.

At some point, he caught up to her, wrapped his arms around her and held her close, even as Bellatrix squirmed and laughed, trying to get away from him. He buried his face in her wild hair which she always kept down when she had the chance – which wasn't that often – and breathed in her scent: something sharp, more spice than cinnamon. "I love you," he exhaled against her ear.

Bella looked up at the blazing sun above them, suddenly very quiet. He knew she could feel it too – the war that was coming for all of them, whether they wanted it or not. He had been trying to stay out of the politics; she was as far into them as her parents would allow. But even if she wasn't, Antonin knew he would not be able to stay away forever.

"I think a storm is coming," Bella said finally. "A breeze has picked up. The air's electric. Can you feel it?" She seemed to relish the thought as she relished all turbulent and dark things that came her way.

"Then we should go back to the others."

She turned in his arms, kissed the corner of his mouth, slipped out from his hold and half-walked, half-swam back to the bank. Antonin followed her slowly, thinking: she wasn't wrong. A storm truly was coming. The greatest storm they'd ever seen.


End file.
